Still slightly apprehensive but willing to finally move the medic stepped out from behind the chair and worked his way back to his own work station where he began his analysis of the replicated narcotic. Carefully he took a small amount of fluid and placed it on an examination slide securing it with a cover slip.

Axle then held the glass up and took a close look with his optics magnified to its maximum capacity in order to ensure that there were no contaminants included in the sample. Satisfied that everything seemed to be on the up and up Axle placed the slide under the scope and let out a low sigh. After a moment of quiet contemplation Axle set his optics against the eye pieces and studied the images. He remained in silence while taking in everything he was looking at and then pulled away.

He wouldn’t know for sure if the replicated drug contained all of the required elements until he actually placed the sample in the electron microscope’s diagnostic computer. Which is just what Axle did. A few manipulations of the key pad and the device began to scan over the sample breaking each element down.

A low beep indicated that the scanning was completed, and just in time. Wheeljack had just questioned the medic about his findings. Although he had the information in front of him, Axle still took sever moments to give the engineer an answer.

“The good news is I think your replicator did an admirable job…the bad news, it failed to replicate three elements."

Axle looked over to Wheeljack… a somber expression plastered on the field medic’s face. He took a quick look at the vial that he set down on the work bench. Axle then turned his attention back to the scientist.

“Maybe that burnt out circuit board had something to do with your device not replicating the last three elements. Call me crazy, but I say we rescan the vial, cross our actuators and hope your replicator gets it right."____

Tracer’s retreat was stopped when Smokescreen took hold of her upper arm. It had the desired effect causing the femme to turn around and face the rallybot. In her haste she forgot that she was already on the downside of her last fix…the Syk was wearing off but it was leaving behind its symptoms in the form of burning optic receptacles and a failing vocalizer. She had also begun to feel the onset of withdrawal. It was inevitable after all…the shaking, the pain, the confusion…but it was the desperation to stop the suffering that scared Tracer the most. For now, however, she would simply have to wait until Wheeljack and Axle were done with their work. And as far as Razr was concerned…Smokescreen was truly the only other person the little turbofox knew and trusted.

“Of course he knows you."

The troubled femme flashed Smokescreen a weary smile and pressed her cheek into his hand but her smile faltered when he mentioned that she didn’t have to worry about him.

“I know you feel better, Smokescreen, but I’m more worried about Sideswipe and Sunstreaker…I mean those two alone are a handful but together…"

Tracer shook her head slightly and then stepped up a little closer to the blue and red mech...caressing the side of his faceplate. The scout let out a quick low sigh followed by a slight nod.

“Alright. Just…just be careful."

Tracer followed Smokescreen’s line of sight when the latter glanced over at Wheeljack who was working on his device. She met the rallybot’s optics when they both turned back to look at one another.

“I know. But you do realize that you leaving means I’m still here with those two and when that thing goes I might be the one dragging them to the med bay."

The scout shook her head and let out a light chuckle. Now that would be something.

“You better go before Sideswipe gets bored or he gets tired of waiting and decides to do a room by room check for me. Oh, and take this…"

She took a quick look back at the medic and the engineer but then turned her attention back to Smokescreen stepped in close to him and placed another kiss on his lips. The moment lasted only slightly longer than the last before Tracer pulled away and whispered into Smokescreen’s audio.

“I……thank you."

Corridor – Near Bounce Chamber

It was only slightly difficult for the minibot to keep in step with the much larger mech. He had always been capable to compensate for his smaller size by performing much more dangerous tasks. His skills in reconnaissance, scouting and espionage were second to none. He just wasn't sure why he hadn't been asked to join the Spec Ops. Oh well, maybe when I get back I can have a talk with Jazz to see what he says. Maybe I can convince him that I’d be a great addition…probably should mention Mirage being a pretty good candidate too.

Bumblebee’s musings were interrupted when the questions he had asked earlier were now being answered by their current mission leader. Prowl was a good mech but his explanations and answers always grated on…well, everyone. Maybe it was his voice. Or the way he carried himself…always so stiff. His personality was…well, he actually had no personality…in fact he was aloof…seemed to keep the illusion that he was always unapproachable…and he probably liked it that way. I wonder if he’d glitch if he had to smile and mean it.

He let his thoughts wander but kept his audio half tuned into whatever Prowl was saying. As always the report was very Prowl-like…long and precise…although the bit about Ratchet was pretty interesting.

“Okay. So in short, Hot Rod has gone off the deep end and he’s taken a few of our guys with him."

Bumblebee grew quiet as he absorbed everything that had been explained to him. Although he’d rather be helping his friends retrieve their wayward comrades, he also knew that Prowl was right…their mission to find an appropriate location for their new on-world head-quarters was of high priority. Without it they were sitting ducks in orbit. They stood a better chance on the surface in an area no one could find.

“You know a lot of people say that…I should have seen "this" coming…but how can you really know what "this" is? You need to let things play out to be sure that "this" is what you should have been looking out for."

Bumblebee placed his hand on the tactician’s forearm and flashed Prowl a reassuring smile.

“No one’s perfect Prowl, and as much as that battle computer and your ability to run statistics at fantastic speeds brings you close to that level…you’re not either."

A routine scouting mission looking for resources with the added prospect of trying to avoid contact with the planet's inhabitants of bi-pedal apes. It didn't sound dangerous and there was probably enough amusement to be had listening into the local communications traffic to keep him entertained during the boring parts of the survey.

Though one new development did concern him. “No air support? Did Silverbolt's airheads decide that a recon mission was beneath them, though I guess that would depend on their altitude!" Freeway laughed as his processors calculated the mission now minus the Aerialbots. Maybe they would show up later but it would be better and safer to assume there would be no air support for the duration of the entire mission in which case he was going to have to get pretty inventive when it came dealing with any aerial threats. He followed the rest of the reduced team out of the door, following behind the others.

“I guess now would be a good time to ask if anyone has bothered to pack any surface-to-air missiles?" he asked Prowl, “Not that I am looking for any confrontation with the Decepticons, kinda defeat the point of a covert recon mission but just thinking they might be worthwhile if we find ourselves having to fight an aerial threat," he suspected Prowl with all his logical computers would have figured this out for himself but it was worth making certain.

The Throttlebot had no idea what was going on with the whole Rodimus but it struck him that if the higher-ups were having difficulty commanding things then clearly there were some serious issues to be resolved, hopefully that would all happen whilst the team were down on Earth.

Wheeljack pulled his hand out of the guts of the replicator once the new circuit board was installed and then secured the cover back on top with one swift motion. Using a clean rag, the scientist wiped away the grime left behind by the smoke that had poured out of it less than a breem ago. Now the invention looked good as new and hopefully it would operate as such from here on out.

The mechanical engineer’s attention was quickly drawn away from the device by the sound of the field medic’s vocal processor. Unfortunately, what Axle had to say wasn’t what Wheeljack wanted to hear regarding the validity of the reproduced Syk. “Well, that’s disappointing," the white mech replied plainly as he turned his head to look at the Autobot medic. “I suppose you’re right. We should try it again with the new circuit board now in place. I won’t give up until I get it right no matter how long it takes."

Of course, they didn’t have forever to get the replication process correct. Tracer’s condition was worsening by the astrosecond and she would need her next fix soon if she was going to keep her sanity intact. Taking the original vile into his hand once again, Wheeljack placed it back into the replicator and had the contents scanned for the second time. Afterwards, he placed the vile back onto his workbench and then carefully checked the readouts on the side of his invention to ensure that all of the elements were accounted for.

“Okay, Axle, I think we are ready," Wheeljack stated with some confidence as he again initiated the replication process and watched the device power up for the third time. “We should be good on this try. All of the ingredients were successfully scanned and included within the program’s algorithm," the scientist explained, raising his vocals over the sound of the machine so that the field medic could hear him. The replicator then began vibrating again, causing a small amount of panic to wash through Wheeljack’s frame and nerve receptors. However, this time the vibrations were minor and there was no accompanying smoke. The circuit board was holding. Thank Primus it was working as it should.

A few more astroseconds passed and the device started its power down cycle, indicating that the replication process was near complete. Finally, Wheeljack exhaled what he had been holding in almost the entire time and glanced over at Axle again, giving him a relieved nod. The scientist then opened the side panel and reached into the mist that hung within the chamber, grasping ahold of a new vial of reproduced Syk. Pulling it out, ‘Jack held it up to optics level and smiled beneath his faceshield.

“It looks cleaner than the last sample," Wheeljack commented as he handed the new vial over to Axle for analysis. “It’s not as cloudy in appearance. Perhaps that’s a good sign, don’t you think?" Of course, appearances could be deceiving and they wouldn’t know if the replicator worked perfectly this time until the field medic placed the most recent sample into the electron microscope’s diagnostic computer. Actuators crossed._________

Smokescreen smiled as Tracer’s concern for him was revealed not just by her words but by her facial expressions, as well. Even with her optics looking decayed and burnt out, her anxiety still showed through as clear as when her sight had been normal. “I can handle the twins, Trace. Sunny’ll probably be jealous of my new paint job and wish he looked this good. Heh." The troubled femme then stepped in closer to him and finally agreed to let him go and get Razr. “I’m alway careful or....at least I try to be."

The diversion expert chuckled slightly as he felt her caress his cheek plate. For a moment, Tracer’s attention broke away from him to check on Wheeljack’s progress. Her concerns were now on the resident mad scientist and that unstable contraption of his that may explode at any astrosecond. She was worried about having to drag both the inventor and the medic down to the med bay all by herself, a feat that she would have trouble accomplishing even if she wasn’t suffering from the effects of the Syk. “Well, I’m sure everything will be fine. Remember, those two did put me back together without blowing the place up. Everything will be okay, Trace. I promise."

The rallybot nodded in agreement as she told him that he should go before Sideswipe got too restless while waiting for someone to come and retrieve her little pet. However, before she allowed him to leave, the troubled femme gave him one last parting gift - a kiss that he returned in kind. After a few moments, she pulled back and whispered a gentle thank you into his audio receptor.

Smokescreen smiled again as he looked directly into her deteriorating optics. “You’re very welcome," the diversion expert replied as he gave Tracer a warm embrace before letting go of her and heading for the door. As the steel panels parted, Smokey paused briefly and glanced back over his shoulder plate at the worried femme. “I’ll be back before you know it," the rallybot assured her before finally turning around and disappearing into the corridor beyond.

Corridor - Near Bounce Chamber

“I never said Hot Rod was in his right mind," Prowl responded plainly to Nova Strike’s observations. “He clearly is not in his right mind in any way shape or form. His insane words alone spoke volumes which is why I should’ve done something when I had the chance. Prime’s death is no excuse for my inaction." No matter what anyone said, the military strategist knew that he had failed in his job and now sparks were at stake. It was bad enough that they had lost Optimus, but now the Autobots were fracturing like a bunch of Decepticons fighting over the leadership mantle. It almost made the black and white want to purge his tanks in utter disgust. Still, the ranger was right in that Magnus would set things on the correct path once more and bring those who have strayed back into the fold one way or another.

Bumblebee’s subsequent sentiments echoed those of Nova Strike, trying to show the strategist that he wasn’t perfect and shouldn’t chastise himself over a situation that he couldn’t possibly predict the outcome of. Perhaps they were right to a certain extent. Even Prowl’s logic center couldn’t be correct all of the time especially in the face of such illogical assertions that the former cavalier had made. Still the black and white had a responsibility to protect those under his temporary command and he failed to do so. It was one more reason that showed Prowl was better suited to working behind the scenes and allowing someone else to take the reigns. At least now the situation could be salvaged with the loss of life at a minimum.

“I appreciate everyone trying to cheer me up," Prowl began to say as the group rounded another corner. “But what’s done is done. Hopefully, Magnus will succeed in his mission which, in my opinion, is just as important and vital as ours. We can’t afford to lose any more of our comrades in arms. There are already so few of us left as it is." The mission commander’s attention was then drawn to Freeway, whose comment regarding the wayward Aerialbots brought laughter only from the Throttlebot jokester. “Silverbolt and his team are not our concern at this point. They will back us up as needed. We should be able to handle things down there on our own just fine."

The saboteur’s subsequent question regarding surface-to-air missiles was not one without merit, but it was also something that was already taken care of. “Good thought, Freeway, but I already have us covered with my shoulder-mounted rocket launchers. However, to take your point a step further, I feel that we should all make sure we are fully armed and ready just in case the Decepticons come calling either by air or even land." The military strategist stopped in the middle of the corridor and turned towards his team. “Therefore, we’ll make a quick pit stop by the armory first and load up on the necessary ammo and weapons before heading down to the surface. By the time we reach the bounce chamber, Magnus and Kup will be well on their way and then we will depart on our mission. Now, let’s move."

With that said, Prowl led the group of Autobots down towards the ship’s armory where he hoped to find a good selection of incendiary missiles for his shoulder launchers not to mention acid pellet cartridges for his rifle.

From the vial Axle looked back up to Wheeljack who had just finished repairing the replicator. Axle was apprehensive to use the device once more but it would be the easiest, not to mention the quickest way to replicate the Syk. Hopefully this time around with the new circuit board the device would actually work properly.

“Yes, very disappointing. But look at it this way, ‘Jack, it didn't explode and it performed a majority of the work…all pluses in my book."

Axle flashed the masked scientist a genuine smile. It faded slightly as he took a quick look in the direction of Tracer who seemed to be heading toward the back room where the recharge berth Wheeljack occasionally used was located. The medic let out a heavy sigh and looked back to the white mech. Wheeljack, by that time, had already scanned the vial once again and started the replicator back up. Axle had to nearly strain to hear what the engineer was saying but he was able to make out that the device had successfully scanned the vial this time around and that the final three elements were actually included in the program.

Several seconds later the replicator shut down and ‘Jack opened the side panel. Reaching into the mist the vial was withdrawn and promptly handed over to Axle who in turn moved back to the electron microscope where he extracted a small amount of replicated Syk and mounted a small sample on a glass slide. In turn the medic placed the slide into the scope and set the program to scan.

The process went quickly, and with a soft beep that indicated that the scan was complete, Axle regarded the results. Sifting through the information that flooded the screen Axle took in everything that was pertinent.

“I think, ‘Jack, that you could actually start a business selling these contraptions, and I’d like to be placed on the top of that list."

Axle took a look over his shoulder at the mech that was stationed next to his new working invention. The field medic flashed him a broad smile and a deep nod.

“It’s an exact duplicate of the original sample. Congrats."____

The embrace Smokescreen gave her was returned instantaneously. If she had been able to she would have gone with him just to be sure he would be alright and just to be in his presence. With her head pressed against his neck cables Tracer nodded gently at his response to her thanks.

The scout lifted her head slowly and stepped back giving the rallybot space to step around her and move to the door. For a moment Tracer kept her back to him but she then quickly turned to face him. Unfortunately the distance between them made it nearly impossible to make out all of his finer details Her optic deterioration had escalated.

She couldn't see him, but she had no trouble hearing him and with his final words Tracer nodded and smiled. Tracer heard the door hiss open, footsteps and then another hiss indicating that Smokescreen was now gone. Tracer let out a low sigh. The femme then turned on her heel and brought her hands up. As much as she tried to deny it she needed help getting around now. She began to slowly move toward the back of the lab where the small recharge room was located. There was no point in loafing around the lab…after all she’d just be in the way so the best place for her to be was the back room.

She slid her hands along the wall using the smooth surfaces as a guide to her destination. During her entire trek her processor was filled with more “what ifs” and “why couldn't I’s” than she could have ever recalled. What if this plan doesn't work? What if Smokescreen finds it impossible to help me and finally walks away before I can tell him exactly how I feel?

Tracer shook her head trying to clear her mind of such inane thoughts. As soon as her knee hit the edge of the berth she placed her hands down on its surface and climbed on top. Tracer settled in quickly and shut down her optics. She couldn't see anymore as it was there was no sense in wasting any more energy keeping them online.

The femme turned on her side and brought her knees up to her chest. A low moan escaped her vocalizer as the first pangs of pain washed over her body. She would need another fix as soon as possible.

Wheeljack took a deep intake of air as he watched Axle place the latest sample of replicated Syk under the electron microscope. Thankfully, the scan was over with quickly and would hopefully produce the desired results. The field medic wasted no time in examining the findings as a multitude of data filled the small view screen. Once Axle had completed his analysis of the narcotic, he responded by complimenting the mechanical engineer’s accomplishment.

“So, does that mean..." Wheeljack asked without finishing his question. Instead, the medical officer confirmed what he had been hoping to hear. “Thank Primus!" The scientist shouted as he threw his arms up towards the ceiling before letting them fall back to his sides once more. “Heh, I’m not sure I want to start a business, considering how long it took me to get it right. As it is, I wouldn’t recommend running the replicator too often. Even with a new circuit board, it’s still kinda old and clunky. We don’t want to overuse it. Otherwise, we’ll be right back at square one again."

The mechanical engineer then walked over to the worktable where the reproduced Syk was sitting and peered down at the vile. “I guess this means Tracer will be good to go for awhile. Of course, that still doesn’t resolve her underlying mental issues. I have no idea how we’re ultimately going to fix that. But at least we’ve bought ourselves some time to figure it out," Wheeljack said, letting out a sigh as he glanced over to where Tracer was now resting on his usual recharge berth, her legs pulled up into a fetal position. “She doesn’t look too good over there," the inventor noted as he returned his attention to Axle. “As long as you’re in agreement, we should probably administer the simulated Syk to her now before she gets any worse. We should also keep the original vile safely in storage as a back-up just in case I have to scan it again. The replicator's internal computer already has all of the elements saved on the hard drive so we don’t have to continuously re-scan the drug. However, you still never know when something will go wrong, resulting in lost data. We should be prepared for that. Just a suggestion, of course."

Wheeljack looked over at the troubled femme again as her suffering was becoming more and more apparent to any mech with half a processor. It was then that the mad scientist finally realized that something was missing or, more accurately, someone. “Hey, where’s Smokescreen? He was just here an astrosecond ago. Did he leave the lab? Is it even safe for him to got out alone?"

From his position on the stool not far from the scientist and his invention, Axle sent Wheeljack a broad smile at his reaction. The replicator worked perfectly although there was a chance that if it was needed more often it might not remain functional.

Axle flashed him an even broader smile with the mention of Wheeljack not wanting to open a business selling his contraptions…thank Primus. Upon the mention of the addicted femme and the uncertainty of just what to do after her addiction was handled…if it ever could…Axle turned to look in her direction. Tracer had retreated to the recharge berth set in the small back room within the lab.

The scout was lying on her side with both legs drawn up close to her chest resembling a tight fetal position. Axle regarded her form with more interest than previously. He slowly stood from the stool and simply nodded in response to Wheeljack’s suggestion.

“Yeah. Storing the original vial’s a good idea, ‘Jack."

The field medic stepped into the back room and placed his hand gently on Tracer’s shoulder. The femme shook visibly and let out a low painful groan. Axle pulled his hand away rather quickly as concern fell upon his visage.

“Tracer? Tracer, look at me."

Axle moved to jostle the femme again, but halted his action for fear he might cause her more pain. Instead he maneuvered around so he was in front of her field of view and squatted down. Tracer slowly turned her head up toward the sound of Axle’s voice…her optics still dark.

“Online your optics for me."

“I…I can’t."

Axle let out a heavy sigh and gently shook his head.

“I can’t see anymore."

Gritting his teeth the medic took a look over his shoulder and back at the engineer. He shook his head lightly before looking back at the ailing scout.

“Your optics…Tracer, I’m going to administer some of the replicated Syk, but I need you to tell me the exact dose you utilize."

“Full…Full vial."

Axle pushed back from the berth and nodded…his lips drawn in a tight thin line. After several astrosconds the medic patted the surface of the berth and stood back up. He moved to where Wheeljack was still standing and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I never thought…we’re going to need that replicator in top condition, at least for the foreseeable future."

It was then that the engineer brought up the missing Smokescreen. Axle quickly lowered his arms and took a long look around the immediate area. The medic let out a low growl; a deep scowl set on his face.

“No. He should be here, resting. He still needs to be monitored. Unbelievable!"

Wheeljack nodded when Axle gave the go ahead to keep the original vial of Syk safely stored away until such time as it might be needed again. Grabbing said vial, the mechanical engineer wasted no time in moving to a nearby cabinet where he placed the narcotic inside and subsequently locked the door with a security code that only he and the field medic would be privy to.

At the same time, Axle had made his way to Tracer’s side to check on her condition and find out from her what the necessary dosage was that she normally took. Wheeljack watched the two mechs converse briefly as the scientist returned to his prior position. Moments later, the medical officer moved back over to where the scientist stood and mentioned that the replicator would need to be kept in top condition for the foreseeable future if they were going to keep Tracer’s addiction under control. ‘Jack nodded in agreement as Axle then became angered by the fact that Smokescreen had left the lab too soon without proper supervision.

“I agree, Axle," Wheeljack replied as he glanced over at the troubled femme once again before returning his attention to the field medic. “I’m sure Tracer knows where he went. He’s probably off doing something for her, I’d imagine. Perhaps we should question her about it. Of course, in her condition she may not be able, or willing, to give us a straight answer."

Not wanting to waste further time wondering about his recently rebuilt comrade, Wheeljack opened a secured comm line to the diversion expert:

>>”Smokescreen, this is Wheeljack. Where the slag are you? You still need to rest up. You’re not at 100% yet regardless of how well you may feel! If you’re going to leave the lab, you need an escort! Smokescreen! Please respond immediately!"<<

After several astroseconds without a reply from the rallybot, Wheeljack cast another worried look over at Axle. “It’s not like him to ignore a friend, especially considering the circumstances. So, either he’s turned off his comm so we won’t bother him, or he’s in some kind of trouble, again, and can't respond. Maybe I should go out looking for him before I perform any maintenance work on the replicator. All this could be for naught if he gets in over his head and someone, like say Red Alert, finds their way back here."

A short time later....

Secure Message from Smokescreen to Tracer:

>>”Hey, Trace, it’s Smokescreen. I’m fine and you’ll be happy to know that Razr is away from Sideswipe. What an aft hole he was, but I’ll fill you in on those details later. The only unfortunate thing is that Razr has run off again, but I’ve got Bluestreak here helping me search for him so it shouldn’t be too much longer. Take it easy in the meantime and I’ll see you soon."<<

The scowl on his face merely deepened as Axle ran through all of the possible scenarios that could be occurring right now while Smokescreen is off gallivanting. All the medic needed the rallybot to do was rest and recover…after that than whatever. But no! Instead the hero had to go running off in order to save his lady-love from some other peril. Slag.

Axle let out a low, nearly, inaudible sigh.

“No, she might not even remember what they last talked about. Look…"

The medic made his way to the replicated narcotic and took a firm grip on the vial. He then grabbed an injector and turned back to face Wheeljack. Axle turned his gaze from the equipment he had just taken possession of toward Tracer who was curled in to herself even tighter now. With a shake of his head the field medic loaded the vial’s contents…save the final 15%...into the injector.

"...I’m going to administer the Syk. Just so we’re clear…the effects will take hold rather quickly. Her pain will subside but she’ll wind up paralyzed. Circuit Speeders have the tendency to do that. It won’t last forever, but long enough for you to do a bit of work on her optics."

Axle checked the setting on the device and took a quick glance back in Wheeljack’s direction.

“I’ll go and find Smokescreen. I have a feeling that if you head out there you and Red will cross paths and the inquisition will begin. I don’t think Red knows I’m helping you out so if we happen to bump into one another it won’t raise his suspicions."____

Tracer let out another pain-filled groan as she attempted to change her position on the berth. Every movement was torture. After a short rest the femme once more tried to extend her legs and turn over…the act only send tendrils of white hot agony through her every joint.

She finally relented and pulled her knees back up toward her chest where she wrapped her arms securely around them. With her optics non-functional Tracer needed to rely on her other sensors in order to ‘see’ the world around her.

Through her pitched intakes she could hear Wheeljack and Axle discussing something about a missing person…then something about Circuit Speeders. The light beeping that came across her processor let her know that she had just received a secure message from…from…Smokescreen…

“Smokescreen? Where…Smokescreen?"

As much as she wanted to, Tracer was unable to focus long enough to open the communique and determine just what the matter was….if there was anything.

Wheeljack paid close attention as Axle retrieved an injector before loading the replicated Syk into the device in preparation of administering the narcotic to Tracer. The field medic then explained what he was about to do and what effects could be expected once the drug had entered the femme’s systems. The paralysis he described should give the mechanical engineer just enough time to fix, or at least improve, Tracer’s failing optics.

“I’ll be able to restore her sight without much of a problem," Wheeljack confirmed as Axle moved towards the drug-addicted femme. “As for the scorch marks around her sockets, well, I might be able to clean them up some so she can pass for a normal mech again. However, her vision is my primary concern." The mad scientist then nodded in agreement when the field medic offered to go look for Smokescreen, himself, noting that if ‘Jack encountered Red Alert during his travels it would only lead to more intrusive questioning from the security expert. “Agreed. It’s better that I stay here, anyway, and work on Tracer’s optics.

With the important decisions out of the way for now, Wheeljack headed for a storage closet and began rummaging through it for the tools he would need to fix the troubled femme’s damaged eyes. Before long, he found an optical repair kit sitting on a lower shelf and quickly took hold of it. Peering inside, the inventor could see that everything he needed was included. There were mini-pliers, a laser cutter, optical screwdriver, soldering pen and replacement lenses. Now, all he had to do was wait for Axle to administer the Syk to Tracer. The mechanical engineer looked over at the field medic and watched closely, hoping the pain-riddled femme did not have any kind of adverse reactions to the reproduced narcotic.

Axle remained silent while he regarded Wheeljack. The engineer would be more than capable of repairing Tracer’s optics although the heat damage already done to the optical sockets might be a bit more difficult to reverse. Still it was something the both of them could work with.

With a nod indicating his agreement and understanding the medic took one more look at the injector’s settings before making his way back over to the addicted femme’s side.

Tracer groaned lowly as another wave of pain washed over her already tired and sensitized frame. The intensity seemed to be growing steadily with no sign of relenting anytime soon. The femme already knew exactly what would make it all go away. She nearly fell from the berth when she felt a hand gently touch her shoulder…the touch, although meant to be light, still sent shock waves of fiery agony coursing through her body.

“Tracer? Tracer…it’s Axle."

The femme drew in a deep breath before turning her head in the direction of the medic’s voice. Her brow furrowed as she fought back a new groan of pain. Carefully Tracer reached up and took a hold of Axle’s forearm. Her grip tightened as she tried to pull herself up to get closer to the doctor.

“Ax…Axle…please. Hu…it hurts so mu….much. I need…make it stop. Please…make it stop."

The medical officer shook his head slowly as he watched and listened to the femme beg for the one thing that she believed would make her suffering end. It was disheartening to see a perfectly good person reduced to begging for a drug that did nothing but ruin her life.

Relief washed over Tracer when she finally heard that the doctor would stop the pain. She nodded at his request for her to turn onto her back and accepted when took hold of her legs and helped her move into position. She ignored the discomfort knowing that it would go away if she cooperated.

Axle waited for a moment until the femme had settled down enough for him to sit on the edge of the berth without agitating her further. The medic let out a heavy sigh as he reached up and placed his hand gently against her lower jaw. Slowly he pushed to the side and up exposing one of the main energon lines that ran down her neck.

“Alright, you’re gonna need to hold still…"

She grew motionless as she felt the sharp tip of the injector press into the hard line…and then came the familiar sensation of warmth. Almost immediately her tense body relaxed and she let out a low contented sigh. Once the entire vial was administered Axle removed the ejector and placed it on a side table. From a storage compartment in his leg he produced a portable medical scanner and began taking several readings.

The Syk coursed through her systems quickly and Tracer was more than happy to be along for the ride. Everything went away…the pain, her highly sensitized sensations, and all of the muddled thoughts…all of them gone. And the more she relaxed the more things became clear.

To Axle’s relief the scans seemed to all be within normal parameters…for an addict. He lowered the scanner and watched as the femme’s mouth opened wide as if she was ready to speak but she produced no noise. Her movements then stopped…her body growing lax as paralysis took hold. Axle motioned for Wheeljack.

“Alright. She’s in that paralyzed state I told you about. It’ll last for a while so you’ll have plenty of time to repair her optics. One thing…"

He took a quick glance back at the blue and white femme before looking back up at his assistant.

“She’s still fully aware…she just can’t talk, move or react. And she can still feel.The repair will have to be taken care of with her awake. I have no intention of pumping her full of sedatives or pain inhibitors. Primus knows how they’ll interact with the Syk."

Axle got up off the berth, stored his scanner and placed a hand on Wheeljack’s shoulder. He gave it a gentle squeeze before moving past the white mech and back into the main laboratory.

“I’m gonna go reign in our wayward patient. I’ll be back as soon I can."

His intentions made clear, Axle left the scientist’s lab to begin his search for Smokescreen.

Wheeljack watched as Axle administered the replicated Syk to Tracer. Within moments, paralysis set in. The scientist then listened as the field medic explained the situation more thoroughly, revealing that the troubled femme was still conscious and could feel and hear everything that was going on around her. Worse still, Axle could not give her any pain killers due to the unknown reaction they would have with the Syk. This would make the mechanical engineer’s job a bit more difficult to perform with the knowledge that he would be hurting her unintentionally.

“I understand," Wheeljack said with a nod as Axle left the lab to go look for Smokescreen. Without wasting any time, the white mech made his way to Tracer’s side and knelt down, setting the optical repair kit next to her on the berth. "Tracer, it’s Wheeljack. I know that you can hear me. I’m going to try and repair the damage to your optics. Once I’m finished you should be able to see again. However, the heat damage around your sockets may not be as easy to fix, but I’m more concerned now with your actual vision." The scientist paused for a moment as he opened the kit and retrieved an optical magnifier. He then attached the round device over his right optic, allowing him to see deep within Tracer’s damaged eyes.

“I apologize in advance if I hurt you, Tracer. I promise I’m going to be as gentle as I can. Unfortunately, some of what I must do will cause you pain. I’m very sorry," Wheeljack said gently as he placed a soft hand on her shoulder plate and leaned in closer to her. Peering through the magnifier, the scientist could see the damage to the troubled femme’s optics clearly and quickly ascertained what needed to be done in order to fix them. Pulling back slightly, the engineer grabbed a pair of mini-pliers before regarding Tracer with a concerned look. Thus far what he had done had been painless, but that was about to change. “Tracer, I’m going to work on your left optic first and then move on to your right. I need to remove the lens so that I can access and fix the circuitry within the eye, itself. The heat from the Syk has melted away some of the nerve receptors to the retinas in both optics which is why you cannot see. Once the connections are re-established, I will install a replacement lens and your vision should be restored as it was before. Okay?"

Wheeljack knew perfectly well that Tracer could not respond to him, but he spoke to her as if she could anyway. It was simply a force of habit that made no difference one way or the other. Bringing the mini-pliers up to bear, ‘Jack leaned in again and began using the tool to grasp a hold of the left lens by the delicate edges. Once the pliers were secured, he turned the lens clockwise, which unlatched it from the optic, itself. Removing the lens and setting it aside, the engineer retrieved a soldering pen from the repair kit and ignited it. This is where the real pain would start as the scientist began fixing the connections that had been severed by the highly addictive narcotic.

“Again, I’m very sorry. This is going to hurt," Wheeljack warned her as he delved into her left optic with the soldering pen. It took only a short time to make the necessary repairs, but it probably felt like an eternity to Tracer who could do nothing but suffer through the procedure with no way to react. Although, it was probably not as bad as the agony she had already endured from the Syk withdrawals. “There," the scientist muttered as he placed the soldering pen down and reached for the mini-pliers again. ‘Jack then installed a brand new lens, turning it counter-clockwise until it locked into place.

Wheeljack repeated the same process with Tracer’s right optic, encountering no issues as he performed the procedure again. The scientist persistently apologized to her, finding it very difficult knowing that he was causing her even more pain. Finally, repairs on both eyes were completed. “Okay, I’m all done now, Tracer. Whatever pain you felt should be going away now. Again, I’m sorry."

Placing the tools back into the optical repair kit, Wheeljack stood up and walked to the nearest worktable. The mechanical engineer let out a deep sigh as he grabbed a clean rag and some Corrostop before returning to the white and blue scout’s side. “I’m going to try and scrub away some of the scorch marks from around your optics using Corrostop. As for the actual heat damage on the inner part of your sockets, I’ll need Axle’s expertise for that. You should feel no pain with this. I promise." The scientist then applied some Corrostop to the rag and began to gently wipe away the ugly black marks that had stained her metal skin.

Tracer wanted more than anything to speak to Wheeljack…to let the worried scientist know that even though the repairs he was about to perform would cause her pain that she knew it was all necessary. Her attempts failed miserably. The paralysis that ravaged her frame also prevented her from using any of her sensors. She couldn't even open a comm link to send a reassuring message.

At first she could feel slight pressure, but that soon vanished. She then could hear Wheeljack explain what he was preparing to do and again apologize for her impending discomfort. The cool touch of metal from the pliers was the first sensation that she felt, but it was replaced by the feel of the tool remove the lens covering her optic.

As if she were even capable of doing it, Tracer prepared for the inevitable pain that was to come hoping that it would not be was bad as expected…and it wasn't…it was worse. Much, much worse. The scout wanted to scream but no matter what she tried nothing escaped her vocalizer. Not one muscle cable tensed…there was nothing. Trapped in a paralytic state with no means of expression but capable of sensing everything…it truly was a living hell.

And then it was over. The pain started to subside. Unfortunately she would not be able to reboot her optics until the paralyzing effects wore off, but at least she knew she’d be able to see again. The scorch marks that surrounded her optic sockets were going to be much more difficult to reverse. No big deal, Wheeljack. I can live with that. Oh yeah…you can’t hear me.

I really wish you could hear me. I owe you and Axle so much. I don’t think I could ever come close to repaying you both. I just hope a heartfelt thank you will be enough, because it’s really all I can offer. Her monologue would never make it out of her mouth even with her jaw locked in a slack position…she’d just have to be patient and speak with both the engineer and the medic when the Syk’s effects lessened.

>>"Magnus, the situation down here is ugly. We already have serious wounded, Autobots attacking Autobots and Decepticons attacking Autobots. I'm gonna try and get everyone out in one piece but its going to be messy. If you are going to come down here I ask you do it quickly."<<

Entering the armory, Prowl made a beeline to the ammunitions locker where he entered the appropriate security code which gave him access to the items within. He briefly rummaged through the compartment before locating the acid pellet cartridges for his rifle. Grabbing what he needed, the military strategist left the locker open for the rest of his team to acquire whatever ammo fit their weapons. Moving across the room, the black and white found one of the heavy duty containers where the more powerful explosive shells were stored. Again, he entered the required code and opened the top lid, exposing a variety of bombs and rockets. Prowl’s optics scanned the contents before leaning forward and retrieving a number of incendiary missiles. He then straightened his posture and carefully loaded them into his shoulder launchers.

Once he was fully equipped and ready to go, Prowl turned to face his team of Bumblebee, Freeway and Nova Strike. “Okay everyone, grab what you need and then we’ll make our way down to the bounce chamber. Ultra Magnus and Slingshot should have left the ship by now, so we should be able to leave immediately for our intended Earth-bound destination. If you have any further questions regarding our mission, now is the time to ask. Otherwise, we depart in two breems."

Prowl’s words were direct and to the point, showing little to no emotion as he spoke them. Even though this was only a scouting mission, the logical mech took it very seriously as it was no less important than the task that now befell Magnus and the others who were trying to reel in Rodimus and his wayward band of rebels. Hopefully, success would be achieved on both fronts, but the military strategist could only be concerned about his own assignment. He needed to remain focused and trust that the City Commander would do what was necessary to reunite the Autobots once more. It was imperative in the overall war effort if they were to maintain an advantage against the Decepticons.

Walking over to the doorway of the armory, Prowl stood and waited for his scouting team to finish gathering what weapons and ammo they would require.

Ultra Magnus tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for the two support soliders he had summoned from the depths of the 22 to arrive. Tonton, a mechanism who specialized in Jungle Combat, and Bidder, a mechanism who specialized in defensive maneuvers. Neither had been given the opportunity to acquire an earth vehicle form since arriving in system but for the purpose of recovery, Magnus was not exactly in a place to quibble about details. Kup's emergency beacon had already bought out a terrifying reality of what was going on down there. Autobots were being overrun by other Autobots and a nest of Decepticons.

"So, we going to get this show on the road? I'm itchin to get another shot at clearing the skies before that idiot hypocrate Blades gets all the glory." Slingshot whined as he fastened the belt containing three EMP Mines into his internal drop magazines. "Not that he can do the job, he is a Protectobot after all."

Magnus glared down at the Aerialbot sharp shooter. He was about to order the immediate activation of the bounce protocols when the doors slid open to reveal a plump lime green barrel keg looking mechanism with forest green trim followed by a much more narrow profiled mechanism with a reverse forest camo pattern. "Bidder, Tonton..."

"Reporting as ordered. Ready to kick some Decepticon fender." The thicker Autobot cracked his knuckles as he stepped onto the reinforced bounce pad. The sound of plastics cracking under his incredible weight only served to worry Magnus. Bidder had some of the thickest armor available for deployment. Meaning he could help First Aid defend the wounded while the Protectobot Medic worked his magic.

For Tonton's acknowledgement he simply nodded. The lithe Autobot pulled out a Pathfinder rifle and slapped in a random ionized clip into the magazine chamber. He flicked the safety off and entered a ready position.

Nova Strike broused through the collection of armorments as he waited for Bumblebee, Prowl and Freeway to gather their required weaponry complements. It wasn't as though he was a pacifist by nature, that prevented him from grabbing or accessing his own locker of weapons. It was far more simple. Nova Strike's primary armorments, his main high powered laser cannon was powered by internal batteries that were constantly charging, when the safeties were deactivated, and his two hand held specialized energy blasters were armed by recharge clips that were continually repowered and rotated by his own energy flow. In other words, Nova Strike gave his very life force to the cause.

Some doctors had recommeneded that he repair that supposed design flaw, but given his choosen function it was probably the most useful adaptation he had received upon his construction. Advanced sensors, a wide array of support items that were already topped off before the meeting, and his life sustaining batteries were all ready for whatever may arise.

Once he was done his brousing he stopped briefly at a small sphere that was held in a gravity display field. Quietly he reached out and palmed the small rotating device and pulled it free from the display. It immediately registered his security code information and began to hum mutedly. A second passed before a wave of red light passed over the sphere before it began to peel back its out side layer. Nova Strike's optics narrowed briefly before recognizing the small wrist watchesque device for what it was. A veridian isoliniar sensor band. As powerful as his sensors were, Nova was not adversed to taking a small technical advantage... even on a routine scouting mission.

He placed the device into a storage compartment on his arm before replacing the sphere back into the display field. "Alright Prowl, lets get this show on the road."

With that the ranger slapped Freeway and Bumblebee on the shoulders guiding them friendly towards the hall and the Bounce Chamber. "Next stop Urth"

The trek down to the armory hadn’t taken nearly as long as Bumblebee had anticipated, although that could have been due to the small mech’s mind wandering to just about everywhere. Cybertron…what happened there…what happened to Hot Rod. What was happening now. It was almost too much.

Upon their arrival at the munitions locker Bumblebee’s musings were interrupted by Prowl’s sudden announcement proclaiming that all the members of the team should grab what they needed as quickly as possible and then leave.

Bumblebee had never taken a liking to heavy artillery so instead the little scout preferred to arm himself with nothing more than a standard laser pistol, but since they were heading down to the planet’s surface and they had no idea what to expect, even though their mission was nothing more than a scouting mission…Bee’s specialty.

Laser pistol in hand Bee checked the weapon’s charge ensuring that it was ready…just in case. There were a set of green lights that illuminated up the side of the gun’s handle indicating that it was at full charge and only needed a squeeze of the trigger.

Bee cracked a small smile as he re-holstered the weapon and turned to meet the other. However he stopped suddenly in front of a shelving unit that held a series of explosive devices. The yellow minibot picked up a pair of plasma grenades and then took his time to grab several flash grenades. He was more inclined to confuse and disorientate any unwanted arrivals than actually kill them.

Bee nodded in satisfaction and then quickly moved out from between the shelving units and made his way to the other members of the team. He stopped to stand next to Nova Strike who promptly slapped him and Freeway on the shoulders.

“Heh. It’s Earth, Nova, not Urth."

Bumblebee flashed the ranger a broad smile before looking back to their squad leader.

“I think we’re ready, Prowl."

With a sage nod Bee worked his way to the door and left the armory for the bounce chamber. The sooner they arrived on the surface the faster they could inspect the area and determine if the location would suffice.

Having stocked himself up on the Guardian, Freeway was already well supplied but he made sure to pick up a few extra mines and plastic explosives which might prove useful in the upcoming days. Plastic explosives were always handy especially when infiltrating as it allowed him to shape the blast and specifically targets things like hinges on doors, joins on pipes without causing too much collateral damage.

“All set and ready to go, Prowl," he said. Freeway was glad that First Aid had given him a clean bill of health, that should mean he'd get a chance to try out his de-coding equipment on all the strange human communications, he wondered if they would pose a challenge to crack, though judging by the amount of comms traffic coming from the planet he doubted they would all be encoded. It would be interesting to find out just what all those humans were talking about too, organics must have something to talk about after all.

Nova Strike steered the Throttlebot to the bounce chamber in his usual friendly manner, “If your hand gets any more friendly me Sparky you're going to have to buy my some energon," Freeway said with a laugh and then looked at Nova Strike and Bumblebee discussed the name of the planet, “Just call it Solar Three to avoid confusion, it's the third planet in what Solar System. Nothing particularly special about it really though it's not nearly as screwed up as Cybertron but just give us time. Lets start abouncing!"

Once the members of the scouting team had made it known that they were all set and ready to depart, Prowl wasted no further time and immediately left the armory for the bounce chamber, the other mechs following close behind him. The military strategist traversed the corridors swiftly, not worrying about whether or not the rest of the team could keep up with his brisk pace. They all knew the way so even if someone got separated from the group, the ‘Bot in question would eventually catch up, creating only a minor delay. Still, time was of the essence and they needed to bounce down to the surface ASAP.

Entering the bounce chamber, the black and white discovered that Rewind was already there waiting for them to arrive. Prowl nodded at the diminutive cassette before making his way over to the control console and entering the coordinates into the computer. Their destination was a secluded valley within the Central Andes Mountains of Peru. It was there that they hoped to scout around and locate the perfect spot to set up the new Earth-bound Autobot base. Although, by the sounds of things, Ultra Magnus was describing more of a city than a mere base.

Regardless, the coordinates were now laid in, and Prowl regarded his team of explorers with a serious expression. “All right, the countdown has been set. We have exactly 30 astroseconds before the bounce beam is automatically initiated. Rewind, I will fill you in once we are on the surface. Now, let’s move." The military strategist then walked across the room and stepped up onto the bounce pad, followed quickly by Bumblebee, Freeway, Nova Strike and the tiny archivist. Within moments, the scouting team was engulfed in a bright light before disappearing from sight.

(OOC: With Ember’s permission, I’ve moved this storyline along in order to save time. Members of the scouting team can now post in the new Earth thread, "Autobot City", once I’ve started it.)

The trek back from the Guardian to the 22 was made in mind numbing silence. He had done what he set out to do and found not only the diversionary tactician but the little wayward turbofox that seemed to want to continue to elude everyone…well, with the exception of Smokescreen.

Finally after what seemed like an eternity the two “hunters” stopped in front of the door to the engineer’s lab. Axle raised his hand and made ready to enter the code that would grant them entrance when he suddenly stopped and whirled around to face the red and blue rallybot. The medic transferred his slightly raised hand from in front of the keypad and placed it gently on Smokescreen’s shoulder.

“Look, Smokescreen, this…everything…I’m not gonna say I understand it, because Primus knows I don’t, but was it all worth it? I mean you might not be standing here right now if…"

Axle paused a moment but never gave a real opportunity for the smaller ‘Bot time to respond instead the black and green medic let out a huff and turned back to the keypad where he promptly entered the code and waited as the door slid to one side granting both mechs entrance.

“You know what; I think I already know the answer. Forget I asked."

Axle sidled through the threshold and made straight for the back room where Tracer was located. On the way he regarded Wheeljack with a small smile and a slight nod. He’d check the engineer’s work on the femme’s optics, but something told him he needn’t worry about the sensors.

He stopped next to the slab and gave the prone femme a cursory sensor scan taking note of any abnormalities in her systems…everything seemed to be stable…good. Once the readings were satisfactory Axle moved up to the head of the slab and leaned down. The built in sensor scanner that just about all medics were equipped with initiated giving him a more in depth look at the inner workings of Tracer’s newly installed optics.

While he was busy taking reading and logging them into a memory file Axle heard a low groan coming from just below him. He raised his head slightly and took a look down at her entire frame. Her fingers flexed slightly followed by her hands. From his low stance Axle straightened up fully and watched as her jaw began to loosen and finally close fully.

“Tracer? Tracer, can hear me? It’s Axle."

His question was answered by only anther groan. Axle let out a sigh as he placed a fist against her chestplates and roughly ground his knuckles into her armor in a circular motion. The uncomfortable pressure and pain caused her to online her optics…followed closely by a whimper that was laced with full blown anguish.

“Hey. Tracer, look at me. Focus!"

Finally able to move a bit more freely she tried to turn on her side in an attempt to curl up into as tight a ball as possible, but the medic’s hand still pressing achingly on her chestplate made it nearly impossible to adjust her position. The pressure suddenly subsided, it remained but it was much more tolerable and Tracer turned her head until she was facing in Axle’s general direction…she was still unfocused but the medic’s stern tone helped her to locate his position. The pale color of her optics was once again replaced by the deep sapphire that was their normal hue.

“Reboot your optics and tell me what you see."

Tracer did as was told and lolled her head around trying to get a distinct picture of her surroundings. A few moments passed before she focused on Axle.

“Can…can see you."

“Good."

The medic lifted his hand in front of the femme’s face and raised one digit while the optical sensor he had used prior moved back into position over his own optic.

“Alright…I want you to follow my finger but don’t move your head." From side to side the mech moved his hand and watched intently as she focused on just his digit. With a nod and a small smile Axle moved his hand from in front of her view and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“They’re working fine. However, you’re going to have to wait a while before I reinstall your enhancement protocols so don’t go trying to access them, got me?"

Axle’s order was only answered with a weak smile and low groan. The smile on Axle’s face faded as he watched her face twist up in agony. Unfortunately the pain was the one thing he couldn’t help her with.

“Hurts." She croaked out.

“Yeah. I know, but I can’t give you anything. You’re going to have to ride it out. I’m sorry."

Axle’s shoulders slumped as he let out a heavy sigh. This was going to be a very long process…for her and for them.

“Sm…Smokescreen?"

Her question broke the medic out of his musings and redirected his attention to the laboratory proper where Wheeljack and Smokescreen were located. Axle offered her a slight nod and made his way out to stand before the other two mechs.

With Razr still curled up in his arms, Smokescreen had followed Axle during their silent trip from the Guardian all the way to the door of Wheeljack’s lab on the Ark-22. Once they had finally arrived at their destination, the field medic abruptly stopped and spun around, placing his outstretched hand on the rallybot’s shoulder. The question posed to the red and blue racer was one he had expected to be asked eventually, either by Axle or Wheeljack. Of course, the answer was a resounding “yes”, but Smokey never had a chance to say it before the black and green mech turned back around and entered the security code, granting them access to the lab.

Smokescreen simply smiled as Axle conceded that he already knew the answer to his own question before crossing the threshold and making his way towards the back room where Tracer still lay motionless on a berth. The diversion expert followed as he gently rubbed the top of the turbofox’s head with his actuators. Once the field medic had regarded the inventor with a curt nod and moved on to examine Tracer’s newly repaired optics, the rallybot approached the scientist and gave a friendly nod of his own. “Hey, ‘Jack, sorry I disappeared on you guys earlier. I had to retrieve Tracer’s little pet here," Smokey apologized as he glanced down at Razr before returning his full attention to his friend.

“Ah, it’s okay, Smokey," Wheeljack responded with a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand. “We just don’t want you to overdo it, that’s all. You’ve been through a lot and have a whole new body to show for it. It’ll take time to acclimate yourself to a different frame even though it’s very similar to your old one. Not to mention your trinity organs need time to adjust, as well."

“Yeah, I get what you're saying, ‘Jack. You did a real good job on my new body, by the way. I haven’t transformed yet to see my updated alt mode, but I’m sure it’ll fit my personality just fine."

“Oh, it will, Smokes. Just don’t try transforming yet. Let your T-cog settle in to its new home for a while. Maybe another couple of cycles and you’ll be good to go."

“No problem," Smokescreen replied, rocking Razr gently in order to keep the little guy calm. “I doubt I’ll get out much right now to use it, anyway." The rallybot paused and glanced over towards the back room where Axle was still examining Tracer. From the former street racer’s vantage point, he could see that the troubled femme was beginning to somewhat move around, a good sign that the aforementioned paralysis was starting to wear off. “So, ‘Jack, did you have any trouble fixing her optics?" Smokey asked as he returned his gaze to the inventor.

“It went okay," Wheeljack responded with a deep sigh. “I don’t know if you’ve been told, but unfortunately Tracer was conscious throughout the entire procedure. Pain meds were out of the question so she felt everything I did to her. I tried to be as gentle as possible with her, but I'm sure it wasn't enough. Thankfully, I think I was successful in restoring all of the burnt out internal connections, and I also replaced both of her outer lenses. Plus, I used some Corrostop to try and get rid of those scorch marks from around her orbital sockets. I did a pretty good job, but some of the melted areas will need further restoration. Still, she looks way better than she did when you disappeared."

“I understand. I’m sure you did your best," Smokescreen said with a grateful smile. “And I know you didn’t mean to hurt her. There was no other choice considering the Syk could have reacted badly with any painkillers Axle might have given her. She needs to see, after all, so there was no avoiding what had to be done. Besides, if anyone is to blame for her current agonizing state, it’s that slagger, Oil Slick. He’s the bad guy here, not you, ‘Jack."

“Thanks, Smokey. I appreciate that."

It was then that Axle returned to the main lab area and told Smokescreen that the troubled femme was asking to see him. The diversion expert quietly nodded and moved away from his two comrades, walking into the back room where he found Tracer lying on the cold metallic slab. She was clearly in a lot of pain, but hopefully that would soon pass, allowing her to return to a more normal existence. At least, that is, until she needed her next dose of Syk.

Peering down at Tracer, Smokescreen cast her a warm smile and ever so gently took her hand into his own while still holding on to Razr with his other arm. “Hey there, sweetspark," the rallybot spoke softly in a loving tone. “Look who I found." Smokey loosened his grip on the turbofox, allowing the little guy the option to jump down and cuddle up beside his master once again. Whether her pet did so or not, hopefully Razr’s presence would help ease the drug-addicted femme’s suffering, if only a little bit.

Axle watched as Smokescreen moved past him and into the back room where Tracer was just coming out of her paralyzed state. The prognosis was good as she began moving of her own volition faster than he had expected, but since there were no adverse systems readings he deemed the quick recovery very welcome.

Once the rally-bot was well out of earshot the field medic regarded Wheeljack. With a forced smile Axle placed his hand gently upon the scientist’s shoulder.

“You did a nice job on her optics, ‘Jack. Just a bit more work on the scorch marks and she’ll be back to normal."

He lowered his hand back to his side and let out a tired sigh.

“Well, physically normal."

He let out a groan and moved past the engineer to sit down on a stool by the workbench. He ran a hand down the full length of his faceplate as he looked back to both Smokescreen and Tracer.

“You know we can’t stay here too much longer. We all have to get back to our duties. I’m just waiting for that inevitable call from Ratchet demanding that I get back to the med bay."

Several minutes passed before Axle got back to his feet and stretched.

“I know you told Prowl about Smokey being infected with Cosmic Rust, but with his appearance outside of your lab and being seen by Bluestreak, Sideswipe, and no doubt Sunstreaker it’s probably safe to assume others will know that he’s functional and up and about."

Axle placed one hand on his hip while he continued to watch both love-struck Autobots.

“Any ideas on how we should handle it?"____

Once more Tracer tried to turn on her side but she was still unable to complete the feet. Instead she keened softly and offlined her newly repaired optics. Moving around hurt so it only made sense to stay as still as she could be tolerated.

After several moments passed the sharp agonizing pain lessened and became only slightly unbearable. The room grew quiet after a few minutes with only the soft sounds of the few instruments and equipment that were strewn around the lab and in the back room. The rhythmic hum was almost soothing, but not as much as the sound of Smokescreen’s voice which lowly broke the quiet.

A small smile grew on her visage before it quickly morphed into a deep frown. Tracer onlined her optics and caught only a brief glimpse of Smokescreen before she turned her head away from him.

It took a moment before she was able to turn back and face him without a distressed expression plastered over her face. Finally she was able to regard him with a genuine smile and a slight nod. When she felt his hand gently slip into hers she was able to give a light squeeze.

"Hi."

When Smokescreen mentioned that he had found someone Tracer lifted her head up off the berth slightly and noticed that Razr was tucked securely in the red and blue mech’s arm. She laid her head back down once Razr jumped from his arms and landed lightly next to her on the slab. The turbofox wasted no time in snuggling up close and laying his head gently on her chest.

Tracer slowly lifted her free hand and placed it on top of the animal’s head and slowly ran it up and down between his large ears. Relieved that he was finally back in her care Tracer looked up at Smokescreen and flashed him a bright smile.

“Thank...you…for bringing him back. Missed him...missed you."

She gave his hand a harder squeeze but let her smile falter slightly as another wave of pain washed over her.

“Thanks, Axle," Wheeljack replied to the field medic’s compliment. “Like I told Smokey, I did my best. Her optics were pretty badly damaged, especially internally, but I had all of the tools that I needed to get the job done. I just wished I could’ve caused her less pain, but sometimes it’s unavoidable." The engineer watched as Axle sat down on a nearby stool, looking exhausted. The black and green mech then commented that they couldn’t all remain in the lab for much longer as individual duties still awaited each of them. Letting out a sigh, the mad scientist nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you're right. Although, I was setting up my lab when I got the call from Smokey, so most of the other 'Bots won’t wonder what happened to me as I do the majority of my work right here in my lab. It’s the rest of you that have other places to be."

About a half breem passed as Wheeljack remained silent, watching the love bots interact with one another in the back room. How nice it must be to have someone special working within the corridors of the same vessel. It was seldom that love or affection flourished during periods of war. Many mechs found no time for it even in between battles when there was little to do but routine duties. Of course, the fact that there were so few femmes on the front lines didn’t help matters. Still, while it was nice for Smokescreen to have Tracer so close to him, it could also be a hinderance as evidenced by recent events that almost saw the diversion expert killed and all for the affections of one troubled femme.

Finally, Axle spoke up again and mentioned that several Autobots had already seen the rallybot up and about and fully functional again. The question now was, how to handle Smokey’s reintroduction into the ranks after such an absence. Wheeljack had not really thought about it, knowing that it would be hard to tear him away from Tracer until she was at least feeling better. Regardless, it had to be addressed sooner rather than later.

“I’m not sure," Wheeljack started to say as his attention shifted from the love bots back to the field medic. “I’m assuming that neither Bluestreak nor the twins made a big deal out of his new appearance? Heck, Blue probably didn’t even notice since he’s never been to Earth before now and thus wouldn’t know what Smokey used to look like. Sunny and Siders are another story, but if they didn’t question anything too much then most others probably won’t make a big deal out of it, either. As for when we should get Smokey back out there to his normal duties, well, maybe in another cycle or two. The hard part will be getting him to leave Tracer. Perhaps I can put in a request to have them both reassigned to my lab to assist with my experiments. That would give both of them time to rest up some more before being unleashed back into the war. Just an idea, of course."_________

“You’re very welcome, and I missed you, too," Smokescreen answered Tracer once Razr had jumped down to cuddle up next to her on the cold metal slab she was lying on. Like he had hoped for, the little turbofox had brought her some level of comfort while the pain continued to radiate throughout her body. It was clearly evident on the troubled femme's faceplate no matter how hard she tried to hide it from the rallybot. Ultimately, she gave up trying to conceal her suffering and simply admitted that the pain was not going away as quickly as it usually did. “I’m sure you’ll feel much better soon, Trace. Just give it time."

Smokescreen’s words were meant to reassure her that everything would be okay. However, the fact that the replicated Syk was taking longer to work was very concerning to the diversion expert as it meant one of two things. Either Wheeljack’s invention hadn’t done it’s job properly and there was something wrong with the reproduced narcotic, or the vile Smokey had stolen from Oil Slick was not the same mix that Tracer had been given previously. Of course, there was also a third possibility where the femme’s body was getting used to this incarnation of Syk and thus it was no longer having the desired effect on controlling her illness. If that was the case then a more potent version would have to be created or she would continue to suffer. She needed to be weaned off of the drug slowly and not go, as the humans would say, cold turkey.

Regardless of what was causing this initial delay, the diversionary tactician tried not to jump to any conclusions. Instead, he remained focused on Tracer and squeezed her hand while smiling down at her. Smokescreen then caressed the side of her faceplate with his free hand before leaning in to give her a gentle kiss on her chevron. Once the affectionate gesture was made, the rallybot raised his head back up with the same reassuring smile spread across his visage as he locked optics with her newly fixed ones. “Hang in there, Trace. You’ll be back to your old self in no time. I promise."

With a heavy sigh Axle very harshly laid his elbow on the workbench’s surface and rested his cheekplate on his lightly balled fist. “And you did a great job, ‘Jack. I’ve got no questions about that, but…" Axle grew silent as Wheeljack continued on voicing his opinion on just what to do about reintegrating Smokey and himself back into the populace.

Axle waved off Wheeljack’s concern regarding the twins. “I wouldn’t worry about Sunny or Sides. Sunny’s never been interested in anything other than himself or his brother and Sides, well we all know he’s got a short attention span." Axle shifted slightly on his stool as he considered Bluestreak’s reaction. “Well, Blue…the kid’s not a very keen observer outside of a battle. Chances are he had no clue Smokey’s appearance changed…as you said."

A few minutes passed giving Axle the small opportunity to think. “Contact whoever’s in charge and see if you can get Smokey and Tracer reassigned to your lab. It’s probably for the best. Meanwhile I’ll have to head back to the Med Bay. I’m surprised Ratchet hasn’t come looking for me by now…" the last bit was added as more of an afterthought.

Axle lifted his head off of his fist and lowered his arm to rest on top of the workbench. “You know, I haven’t heard from Hex in quite some time. Kinda amazed no one’s contacted me complaining he’s gotten into any trouble…pretty unusual. Of course he could be hold up in a wall or something."

The field medic cast a glance up in Wheeljack’s direction just before he stood up and stretched. “I’m sure everything will be fine while I’m gone. And I won’t be away for too long…just long enough to make my appearance and then I’ll be back here."____

Tracer offlined her optics as she lazily stroked Razr on his head eliciting a low contented coo from the little animal. There was a bit of silence as she began to relax and let her processor wander. But it was the sensation of Smokescreen’s hand caressing her faceplate that caused her to online her optics and look up at him…her optics seemingly focused on his visage but not entirely recognizing him. Her optics widened slightly as he leaned down over her and pressed a gentle kiss to her chevron. Tracer flinched lightly at the touch.

There was something familiar about the mech standing next to her, but she was having a difficult time working out just what it might be. She recognized his voice but he looked so strange…nothing like he did when she saw him last…which was only a few hours ago. And here he was again.

Tracer tilted her head slightly as she looked Smokescreen over intently. Her attention was so focused on the bot standing beside he that she completely ignored the turbofox resting by her side. After several moments of quiet observation she lifted her head up off the berth and slowly sat up all the while keeping her optics glued to Smokey’s form.

“You told me that I could go if it turned out that it didn’t work…you promised I could leave after one vorn. It’s going on my 5th vorn. If it hasn’t worked by now then it’ll never work."

She sent an angry glare up at Smokescreen before she carefully tried to stand up causing Razr to jump off the berth to seek out a more secure hiding place.

“You can’t keep me here!"

It was him. It had to be. That gentle touch to her chevron...he was the only one she knew that had such an interest in her head…in all of their heads. It was the only way; he had said. No more. She couldn’t go through another session.

Smokescreen became a bit perplexed as Tracer’s mood suddenly changed and she began staring at him like he was some kind of stranger. She looked him over as if she was seeing him for the very first time, a gesture that made the rallybot feel a little uncomfortable. "Tracer, you okay?" The diversion expert asked as a worried look became etched deeply on his faceplate. The troubled femme then lifted her cranium up off of the slab before she completely sat up, all the while keeping her newly fixed optics glued to Smokey as if she was afraid of him. “Trace, what’s wrong?"

The red and blue racer’s concern was only amplified when the femme began speaking to him about letting her go if it didn’t work and that she’d been there for five vorns now, an assertion that was ludicrous at best. “But, you’ve only been here for a few cycles...." Smokescreen tried to explain to Tracer but an angry glare was what he received in return before she tried to stand up, yelling back at him and demanding that he let her go. “But, you can’t go, Trace, not in your condition! Don’t worry, you’ll feel better soon, I promise!"

As Tracer tried to get to her feet, Smokescreen placed both of his hands onto her shoulders as he looked directly into her optics. “Tracer, it’s me, Smokey! It’s okay. I’m your friend! I’m just trying to help you! You need to lie down and rest while the Syk takes affect." The rallybot didn’t understand why she was reacting in this manner, but he knew that he had to get her to calm down before she ended up hurting herself or someone else. He attempted to gently push her back down to the slab but was met only with resistance from the drug-addicted femme. “Tracer, please, you're going to injure yourself."

It then became apparent to him what was happening. Tracer seemed to believe that she was still in the asylum back on Cybertron where they had conducted those horrible experiments on her that she had confessed to him earlier. The femme was somehow hallucinating which was why she no longer recognized who he was. But how? Was it something in the Syk that Oil Slick had added or did something go terribly wrong during the replication process? Either way, more help was required here than just what the rallybot could give her.

“Guys, I need help over here!" Smokescreen shouted out towards the main lab area where Axle and Wheeljack were still loitering about. “There’s something wrong with Tracer! She hallucinating or something! Get in here quick! I can’t hold her for much longer!" _________

Wheeljack appreciated the field medic’s compliments on the job he had done with Tracer’s optics. The scientist smiled under his faceshield as Axle told him not to worry about Sunny or Siders as they were far more concerned about themselves then of Smokescreen’s current appearance. Bluestreak, while certainly more attentive than the twins, was usually too busy talking on and on than caring about how someone looked. Besides, it’s not like Smokey looked dramatically different. He wasn’t reformatted into a Dinobot or something which would draw a lot more attention to his situation.

“Yeah, you’re right. We don’t have to really worry about those three," Wheeljack commented and he moved over to where Axle was sitting on the stool. “And the likelihood is that most ‘Bots won’t ask too many questions or look too closely to notice that Smokey has an all-new frame. They’ll probably just assume he got a new alt mode and move on from there. It's only the medical experts or higher ups that we need be concerned with."

The mechanical engineer then nodded as the field medic suggested contacting someone in charge in order to get Smokescreen and Tracer reassigned to his lab, a task that should be done sooner rather than later. “I guess I’ll have to contact Prowl again. He’ll likely agree to it considering our last conversation about Smokey’s supposed condition so getting him assigned here with me shouldn’t be a problem. Tracer, however, might be a bit more of a sell if you know what I mean."

Wheeljack then watched as Axle stood up and stretched, mentioning that he had to get back over to the Guardian’s med bay for a brief appearance before returning once more. Somehow, ‘Jack thought that the field medic would be away for a little longer this time. Knowing Ratchet, the CMO probably wouldn’t like his subordinate just disappearing again after only a quick stay. “Well, do what you have to do, Axle. Just don’t come back here too soon. You don’t want to raise any suspicions with the hatchet. He’s probably already grumpy enough as it is. Heh. And I’m sure you’re right. Everything will be fine here until you get...."

The mad scientist’s words were then cut off as he heard some commotion coming from the back room where Tracer seemed to be causing a bit of a ruckus. Smokescreen’s subsequent plea for assistance only confirmed that there was indeed a problem. “I’m coming, Smokes!" Wheeljack responded as he hurried over to the metallic slab where the diversion expert was trying to subdue the troubled and clearly upset femme. The engineer took hold of Tracer’s left arm in an attempt to help get her seated again. “What happen, Smokey?"

“She just started yelling about being kept here for five vorns against her will and that she wanted to leave now," Smokescreen responded as he continued to try and get Tracer to lie down. “She doesn’t recognize me! I think she’s hallucinating that she's back at the asylum! I can’t think of any other explanation! It has to be the Syk you guys gave her. Something’s wrong with the dosage or ingredients or something!"

Wheeljack let out a defeated sigh as he glanced back at the field medic, all the while trying to keep a hold of the struggling femme. "Axle, we need you over here! Stat! The hallucinogen component must have be far more potent then we had anticipated!"